Pleasure Spots
by PhLi
Summary: A slightly more reasonable Hachiman writes a different essay and meets a more reasonable Yukino as he is forced to join the Service Club.
1. Looking Back on High School Life

Hachiman Hikigaya

Grade 2 Class F

Instructor: Shizuka Hiratsuka

Length of Exam: 90 minutes - Do not open this booklet until you are told to do so.

* * *

Looking Back On High School Life

Write your response in the space provided

* * *

Most people who bother with the matter at all would admit that the society is in a bad shape, but it is broadly assumed that one cannot by conscious decision and action do anything about it. A developed society is decadent and so is our language - so the argument goes - must inevitably share in the general decline. Following that, any struggles against the fragmentation of language is a sentimental archaism, like preferring revolvers to semi-automatic pistols or muzzleloaders to assault rifles. Underneath this lies the semi-conscious belief that language is of natural societal evolution and an instrument which we shape for our own purposes.

Now it is clear that the downfall of a language must have been led by socioeconomic changes: it is not due simply to the bad influence of a select few but an effect can become a cause, reinforcing the original cause and producing the same effect in an intensified form and so on indefinitely. A liar lies because he feels he must conceal certain facts from being discovered, and then lies more because now he must cover the previous lies with more of them. It is rather the same thing that is happening to the depiction of youth. It becomes ugly and deceptive because our thoughts are foolish and self-deceiving, but the untruthful nature of our language makes it easier for us to generate these foolish thoughts. The point is that all this process is reversible. Modern language, namely light novels and everyday speech, is full of bad habits which spread by imitation and which can be avoided if one is willing to take the necessary measure. If one rids themselves of these habits one can think more clearly, and to think clearly is a necessary first step toward thinking critically: so the struggle against untruthful language is not futile and is not the exclusive burden of the press. I will come back to this soon, and I hope by that time the meaning of what I have condemned here will have become more coherent. Meanwhile, here are some specimens I have collected, each representing the way our language as it is now habitually spoken.

These examples have not been chosen because they are especially bad - I could have quoted far worse if I had cherry-picked - but because they demonstrate various conditions that happen repetitively in today's literature and conversation.

(Insert examples here, as I cannot find them in an in-class essay)

1\. GENERAL LACK OF CONTENT. "Light" literature, the kind of books often consumed by the youths, lack any meanings of their own. They usually come with a premise that is trending or in common interest of the younger males and then fail to devise a clear message of their own. A faceless high school student who suddenly gains the affection of all the females of a magical world, et cetera. It happens often in everyday conversation as well, for example, lengthy small talks between "friends" who are unaware of each other's names.

2\. DECEITFUL DICTION AND SENTENCE STRUCTURE. While social interaction is human nature, the use of deceitful language to maintain the status quo of friendship is common amongst those who are socially adept.

3\. PRETENTIOUS CARINGNESS. These are feel-good statements usually used to "comfort" those of a lower social hierarchy whose actual use is to generate self-esteem of the speakers themselves.

I was about to write down more examples, but judging the little amount of time remaining, I will skip straight to the conclusion.

I have not here been considering the literary use of language or the evolution of it, but merely language as an instrument for expressing and not for concealing true intents. Certain think tanks have been promoting that abstract vocabularies are meaningless and have used this as a pretext for advocating a kind of political quietism. Since you haven't fully understood the Communist Manifesto, how can you claim that it promises a utopia against human nature? One need not abide by absurdities as this, but one must realize that the present anti-intellectualism prevalent in the younger generation is correlated with the meaningless news feeds and fast food literature catered specifically to the likings of young males, and that one can probably bring about some improvement by starting at the oral end. If you stop using feel-good statements and reading stories of a faceless protagonist engaging in sexual activities with a large-breasted harem, you are freed from a culture of self-deception. Then when you make a meaningless or untruthful remark its stupidity will become obvious, even to yourself. One cannot change this all in a moment, but one can at least change one's own habits, and from time to time one can even, if courageous enough, send some empty, deceitful and useless phrases - _just start trying, there will always be someone who loves you, you are all my friends, I want something genuine_ or any other garbage of that nature - into the landfill where they belong.


	2. 1-1

My teacher, Shizuka Hiratsuka, wore an irritated expression as she read my essay out loud. I realized that the gross lack of examples and supporting evidence may have led to a poorly constructed essay, that is to say, the condemnations I made also applied to my own writing. It lacked any constructive criticisms except for trying not to talk politely, which again brings the topic back to the point I made: one can't be nice and not a liar at the same time - they are two mutually exclusive qualities.

That said - the writing itself couldn't be the reason I was summoned. Despite being an exam, it served nothing more than a "sample of the average writing ability of the class", so I would not have lost any mark even with this excuse of a rant about the previous year.

"Say, Hachiman, what was on the exam booklet?"

"An essay with the topic 'Looking Back on High School Life'."

"And what is your essay about? How to irritate people?"

She dropped the paper onto the table and sighed.

At this point I became increasingly aware of my surroundings. The ticking clock on the wall, the soft breeze from the air conditioner, the afternoon sun's glare on the tinted windows, and a faint odour of charred tobacco. My feet felt cold and sweaty.

"A reflection on high school life."

She lifted a finger in front of her face and swayed it.

"The way you write, judging by its diction and structure, is excellent for a high schooler of your age. In fact, I'm totally willing to rate it above the overwhelming majority of adults." She paused, before continuing at a higher volume, "Though this doesn't excuse you from having overly idealistic high hopes for virtue. You seem to detest the very idea of euphemism, but what other alternatives have you suggested? I'd at least to hear some sort of constructive advice - and what did you write? 'Sweep them all into the dustbin'. "

"Uh... Well… Isn't it a reflection on high school life? I did reflect on it and have pointed out some general characteristics that are becoming exceedingly stereotypical nowadays, you know! I mean it isn't perfect but at least it's very truthful!"

I fumbled my words. I'm not used to talking to people, and a beautiful looking older woman made me especially anxious.

"Usually a 'reflection' question would mean that the author is to offer their personal opinion by sharing a personal experience, not a generalisation of a broad social problem, don't you think?"

"Then put the word 'personal' in the prompt. If you'd done that, I would've written the essay accordingly. Handing out an ambiguous question and then blame those who don't have the telepathic ability for not writing what you wanted is a kind of hypocrisy, don't you think?"

I tried to argue but in the end, it wouldn't have mattered much.

"Looks I'm just wasting my own time here trying to talk common sense into you, the irritable gentleman. You know, I'm not angry with you. It's just your particular way of seeing the world has piqued my interest."

From a breast pocket on her jacket, Hiratsuka pulled out a pack of cigarettes, held the filter between her teeth and ignited its tip with a lighter, all in a swift motion. Exactly how one would expect out of a middle-aged chronic smoker. She seemed to have cooled off a bit with the influx of nicotine.

"You're not in any clubs, right?"

"Right."

"Friends?"

She probably asked these questions under the assumption that someone with a view similar to mine wouldn't have any to begin with.

"Nobody in particular…"

"Summing it all up, you haven't got any?"

"Well… If you have to say it that way…"

All of a sudden her face looked excited.

"So that's how it is! You really have no friends at all! Exactly as my findings from your writing. Looks like I have now learned the ability to judge one's social status from a simple essay!"

Right, a typical feel-good statement to mock on a loser.

"Just to make sure… Are you currently single?"

She sounded like totally enjoying it now.

"Well I'm available at the moment." I tried to make it sound less harsh to myself, considering any hopes for the future, I used "at the moment" just in case.

Hiratsuka seemed to be in a state of deep thinking after this barrage of bizarre questions. Then she exhaled a large cloud of smoke.

"Alright. Since this essay isn't supposed to carry any weight to begin with, just consider you had fun. Read the question carefully on a real exam. Good?" She posed a "not bad" face while irritably tapping her fingers against the desk.

"Yes."

I absolutely would have if today's exam was worth anything.

I've read more than enough news articles to master how to write as smoothly as a fake news generator. School essays tend to only focus on grammatical correctness and paragraph structure alone, so the perfect "school essay" was certainly within my capability.

"However, judging by the fact that your statements in the aforementioned essay have posed serious threats to public safety and national security, as a result, you are to join the service club immediately. Do not go home, do not collect dinner."

She sounded to feel very comfortable in a position of authority, stating her "sentence" with a very quirky sense of humour. Some said authority corrupted people, now it had become clear that even such petty power of an instructor, a government employee, is capable of raising such blatant sadism.

"The service club… What do you suppose I do there?" I timidly inquired. I get the feeling of hand washing twenty-four junk-filled toilet bowls or even worse, being thrown into the organized underground slave trade.

"Follow me."

Hiratsuka squashed the butt of the cigarette onto a densely packed layer of burned paper in a tinted glass ashtray at the edge of her desk and stood up to her full length. At the same height as me, her sheer presence radiated power and strength. While I stood still on the spot awaiting further clarifications to what she was proposing, Hiratsuka was already looking back at me at the door.

"Come on! You'll know what this is about when you get there."

With my brows tightly knit together, I followed.

* * *

Well_ this is the first part, I didn't change a whole lot here except for making Hiratsuka more reasonable and more relatable to an actual teacher. Things are about to get a lot more different and interesting next, I promise._


	3. 1-2

The school building at Chiba Municipal High School has a shape not commonly shared among high schools, namely the shape that somehow resembles a cube with a smaller cubic hole in the middle, plus the small AV building hanging off the side, mostly abandoned pending refurbishment. The main building that contains the classrooms is on the side of a corridor opposite to its smaller counterpart. The two buildings are connected via a passageway on the second floor and the small square space enclosed within the school building is a courtyard for the privileged dating couples. At lunchtime they would happily enjoy their meal, then play tennis to strengthen their bonds. When the sun finally begins to set, the couples head out again under the last rays of sunshine, sitting against the school's coarse concrete walls while they eloquently converse about love and watch the stars surrounded in a gentle breeze that carries a salty taste from the great Pacific.

The couples play their parts in perfect unison, not unlike the actors in a youth romantic comedy. Though being more than ready to give love, with no candidate on the receiving end, I have no place in such drama.

The school year had not officially begun at this point. We were required to spend some three hours worth of orientation - which unfortunately included the aforementioned essay, in my case. Judging by the lazy rays of afternoon sun cast onto the special building's brown-tinted windows, the time was about eighteen-hundred and almost everybody had returned home for their Friday family dinner. The old corridor was paved in an interlacing pattern of large black and white tiles, something one would expect to see supporting the cheerful footsteps of high school girls dressed in outdated deep blue sailor uniforms. Occasionally we would walk past rows of grey-coloured lockers with paint peeling off from the edges, still standing guard for an era that had long ceased to exist. As Hiratsuka's footsteps echoed down the silent hallway, I grew increasingly wary of the bizarre nature of my journey.

The word "service", is rarely expressed in today's dialect; rather the use of the term would only be reserved in the form of an extension of servitude, in a restrictive sense. For example, when referring to the kind of service a slave would provide for his master. If this was the sort of service that club provided, it would have been a pleasure for someone like me, at the bottom of the social ladder, to finally find some self-worth from providing assistance to the socially adept.

Though in reality, such a thing wouldn't happen. The old building was falling apart, thus a more reasonable prediction would be shoving around rusted steel desks and cabinets around the empty classrooms.

In front of me, Hiratsuka took a sharp right turn away from the well-lit corridor and into a windowless one with doors on both sides.

"I have this chronic disease in my bones… which is, osteo...porosis? Yeah, definitely not the best condition to be moving things around…"

"Worry not, I've not yet received a doctor's notice excusing you from PE. What I'm asking you to do isn't physical labour anyways." She regarded me with an exceedingly contemptuous expression.

We did not make another turn, instead, Hiratsuka stopped at what appeared to be an empty classroom.

"We're here."

There was nothing on the doorplate above the frame. As I stared at the entrance, Hiratsuka slid the door open with a clatter. There were chairs and tables piled up in cluttered stacks along the edge of the room, perhaps it was being used as a storage room and apart from that there was nothing special.

At the centre of the room, there was a girl sitting on a chair. Her back partially facing the window. She was reading a book by the twilight. For a while, she seemed motionless, like a wax sculpture. It seemed as if she would continue reading until the end of time itself. That was the illusion she gave, so much so, that it was like a scene from a Renaissance masterpiece.

I was inadvertently fascinated by such otherworldly serenity.

Realizing our presence, she placed a bookmark in between the pages and averted her gaze from the paper to us.

"Have I not informed you that I would appreciate a knock before your entry, Hiratsuka sensei?" The girl announced.

Delicate features. Long, flowing ebony hair. Wearing the same uniform as every other girl in our school but still managed to look uniquely untouchable.

"Even if I do knock, you never respond."

"That's because you enter before I have time to," The girl glanced at us, brows furrowed in response, "And I see that you have invited an honourable guest?" She gave me a quick once-over with a cold wince of her eyes.

I have remembered her name. It was Yukino Yukinoshita, from class J in the 11th grade. Obviously, I had not had the honour of meeting her on a personal basis - there was no way I could have because I seldom ever have conversations with people in my class, let alone someone from a different class. Though it would be next to impossible for anyone of my grade to not have known her by name and face.

At my school, apart from the nine standard classes, in some grades there was also an additional class specifically catered toward nurturing talented students capable enough of fulfilling an active role in the international arena. The class has an academic standard that was at least twice as high as the other ones. It mostly consists of students who have aspirations to study abroad or holders of foreign passports.

Among such a class, the one student that was especially prominent, or rather, naturally drew people's attention and adoration, was Yukino Yukinoshita. Whether it was a simple quiz or a final exam, one would usually find her sitting comfortably among the top 30 in our grade. Simply put, she was one of the naturally intelligent, high-achieving and beautiful-looking upper-class girls whom everybody loved and resented.

On the other hand, my performance at school was rated mediocre at best. While my intelligence went visibly higher than the lacklustre level one would typically find in a mediocre student, I often lacked the motivation inherently found amongst the try-hards. Hence even if Yukino had no idea who I was, I wouldn't be offended in any way. Though the way she winced at me still hit me quite hard, hard enough to distract myself from idyllic fantasies.

"This is Hachiman, he's looking to join the club."

Prompted by Hiratsuka, I nodded in acknowledgement and tried very hard to fabricate a self-introduction without sounding socially awkward.

"I'm Hachiman Hikigaya - Grade 11, Class F. I was informed by my teacher that I must…"

Hiratsuka cut me off.

"You are to engage in this club's activities as a penalty. I won't allow any disagreement, objection, protest, questions or retorts. Cool down for a bit and reflect on your actions." Still holding an arm in front of me, she turned to Yukino. "That being said, you can probably tell by his expression and wording, that his heart is considerably corrupt and may one day become involuntarily celibate. A pitiable, lonely person."

Although I would agree with most of her comments, the way she said it still suggested that I was once again exploited as a laughing stock.

She continued, "If being around an exemplary student can make him clean up his anti-social tendencies a little, can I leave him to you? I'm requesting that you provide him with some practical experience of human interaction."

"If that's how it is, why is he looking to become a member, but not a client?" Yukino replied grudgingly.

Looks like I had failed her first impression.

"Sometimes there are people who can only help themselves by helping others, and having a second member in the club is usually beneficial in the long run."

She looked a bit dazed, seemingly taken aback by the teacher's suggestion.

"I respectfully decline. I'm afraid that his ideologies may not align well with the club's core values." Yukino while replying, readjusted the long bow tie at her collar, which seemed not particularly out of place to begin with.

"Worry not. From my knowledge of him, he is in fact quite adept at self-preservation and sometimes very articulate. He would never say something that may result in a social suicide."

While not being a compliment, what Hiratsuka said had perhaps diffused the tense situation - slightly. Although her comment could be more reasonably rephrased with less spiciness.

"I see…" Yukino replied, very reluctantly.

Whether it was Hiratsuka's diplomacy that successfully persuaded her, or my silence eventually won her trust, the end result matter little because Yukino had come to see me as everything I did not want to be seen as.

"Well… if you insist," She said with a detectable trace of contempt, "I can't very well refuse the offer."

Hiratsuka smiled with satisfaction. "Then I will leave the rest to you." Having said that, she turned and left the room with haste.

I was left standing there alone.

* * *

_This fic started as a simple rewrite of 8man's essay at the beginning of Oregairu, though since then I have become a lot more ambitious about this project. There are just so many characters and parts of the plot - that seem oddly out of place and do not make much sense. My goal is to use this opportunity to understand more about the characters and hopefully end up with a story that is more sensible than the original._

_You can probably see that the three characters so far are behaving more in line with what one would "normally" expect them to be. For example, Hiratsuka not resorting to violence, Yukino not making very hypocritical comments and 8man, while still retaining his cynicism, appears more lonely than hateful._

_Please tell me how do you like this idea and more importantly, if anything seems oddly out of place ;)_


	4. 1-3

Ordinarily, I would be a whole lot more at ease if they had left me by myself, in an isolated environment as I usually was. The old clock on the wall ticked with each passing second and it was becoming dreadfully loud.

The sudden absence of Hiratsuka pushed the atmosphere in the classroom beyond its flashpoint. I watched her, she stared down at the closed book. I was about to try to say something but the thick air had started to suffocate me.

This had happened before. It was another ordinary Friday afternoon, the last bell just rang minutes ago. The curtains swayed with a light breeze, and as the rays of the setting sun streamed through, a young boy in his early teens gathered all his courage and confessed.

I still clearly remembered the girl's voice. "Can't we just be friends?"

We had not spoken a single word since, let alone staying friends. Sometimes it made me ponder the difference between friendship and romance, and if the former was a relationship in which both participants did not have conversations with each other. Though it had become clear that this traumatic event led to my general fear of girls.

The point is - despite being physically together with a beautiful female in an isolated environment like the climax of a classical romantic fiction, my train of thought ran wild in precisely the opposite direction.

Instead of wasting time playing the staring contest, I eventually broke the silence.

"Good afternoon." My voice sounded hoarse, still under the influence of adrenaline.

Yukino glanced at me as if I was a piece of garbage. She narrowed her large eyes as if to half-close them and let out a cold sigh. Then, with a voice like the murmuring of a clear stream, she spoke to me.

"You know, instead of standing there while watching me and fantasizing, why don't you grab yourself a chair and take a seat."

"Ah, yes, sorry."

I mumbled, unconsciously apologizing to her. Despite having not spoken over twenty words since I had entered the room, Yukinoshita regarded me with passive hostility. Her presence was overwhelming. Timidly I removed a chair and sat down some two meters away from Yukino, facing her.

The name Yukinoshita carried some meanings of aristocracy in the school's social hierarchy - much in the way that she scored consistently in front of the pack and also because no matter what, her beautiful body set her apart. Normal classes such as mine already developed some deep-rooted grudges against the elite class, and as a result, little was known regarding the social circles within the creams of the crop themselves. Just like her name, the snow under snow, however beautiful she was, she was untouchable and unobtainable much like a good chunk of plutonium, glowing red hot but at the same time emitting deadly radiation. The attitude she displayed toward me; however, possibly hinted that Yukinoshita, after all, did not fare too well among her peers. I had always prided myself with the talent to see through the facades people put up to hide their true intents, thanks to the emotional trauma the girl whom I confessed to had put me through. In the case of Yukinoshita, though my intuitive hypothesis could be completely wrong, her excessive aggression may have been an outward projection of insecurity, loneliness or the combination thereof.

I never thought that, through this absurd turn of events, I could be acquainted with her. Imagine the stunned faces when I eventually break the news to my friends, all twisted in jealousy. Though unfortunately there was no one on an empty friend list to boast to.

In fact my less-than-competent guesswork had greatly piqued my interest in this untouchable Miss Beautiful. It was true that she despised me, but being as lowly as a social outcast, I frankly had nothing to lose. The worst thing she could possibly perform against me would be to never speak to me again, which in this instance I was never supposed to have interactions with her to begin with.

"So," Yukinoshita began, with the beautiful voice of her's, after stowing the book away into a backpack and placing her hands firmly against her thighs, "What is it that you were about to say? I couldn't help but notice that you have been watching me for an extended period of time. Which I assume suits your stalker's personality fairly well - I must say."

Despite her passive-aggressiveness, I somehow found the sound of her voice flirtatious and almost in a way erotic. It reminded me of certain fans would pay an idol to assault them with derogatory language.

"What kind of 'service' do you perform here in the club?" I swallowed, "Because I couldn't help but to notice that it doesn't have any members. I've been thinking about what I should do about all this nonsense."

"About what?"

"Well, I mean… It's just that she took me here without anything but a confusing explanation."

Yukinoshita expressed her annoyance by clicking her tongue and forcefully slapping the book shut. Then after glaring at me with her eyes, as though I was a mentally challenged, she breathed out a heavy sigh of resignation and uttered a few words.

"... I suppose you're right. She really is hopeless sometimes.

"The word 'service', in this case, could be used interchangeably with the word 'help'. It was my idea to make the name sound more please to the ears. I remember you asked about what we do to help people, and to answer your question more accurately, allow me to use an example. For instance, there are many things that a student would face in his daily life that require external assistance, failing a midterm, not understanding a math concept, being asked to rewrite an essay, not knowing how to properly phrase a confession and maybe just consultation in general.

"Which leads us to your case." She got up from her chair and walked over to a table close to the door. Laying on top of the table, as I just noticed, was the essay I wrote in Hiratsuka's class.

"Pretentious caringness and general disappointment in the way socially adept people talk. I see. What you wrote here was quite spicy, nonetheless showed some reasonable arguments that I couldn't help but to agree with." Yukinoshita clutched the paper in one hand, while slowly strolled around the empty classroom with a teacher's authority. She paused for a minute or so, presumably to finish reading the essay.

"The downfall to it, however, was that while you tore apart and criticized the general lack of genuine expression of feelings in social interactions, you have not provided any concrete ways of improvement. Social courtesies do serve a purpose, a very important one in fact, and that is to cushion the interaction between people and make the experience more pleasant. As a species we have evolved to form language and complex social relations, and judging by your opinions, you'd like to crudely remove all that and lay waste to the very core that allowed you to live in a peaceful society today and express these toxic opinions. Now THIS, in essence, is the sentimental archaism that you both despised and tried to avoid. The only thing you achieved here is to whine about your state of being socially awkward."

Perhaps my gaze became too focused on the soft texture of her lips, so much so that when she ceased speaking and presented me with a perfect smile, I finally came to notice that Yukinoshita had once again sat down on the chair in front of me. Then it was the awkward silence, I knew I was supposed to say something, be it compliments or criticism, to keep this one-sided conversation going.

She seemed to have noticed my struggle for words, and continued to trample over my already crushed self confidence.

"Tell me, Hikigaya-kun, in that genuine, truthful and reformed way that you would like to speak in, tell me, what do you think of me?" Yukinoshita pressed her torso forward, this time wearing a victorious smirk on her face.

"You're a demon superwoman and a master of criticism."

"Nice try. When I was talking I could already see your faceful of arousal and the perverted thoughts your reptilian brain was generating - otherwise you wouldn't avoid all eye contact and stared half the time at my mouth and half the time at my thighs. You too, have fallen victim to the use of euphemism, the very exact culture that you just criticised. "

Yukinoshita gestured me to remain silent, just as I prepared to comment.

"This isn't to say that I have nothing to agree with your essay however, you seem to have some keen observation of our society's flaws. If Hiratsuka wants a rewrite, just fill in a few constructive suggestions to replace the shortcomings that you've discussed in the previous paragraphs."

I could not deny the fact that her sharpness made me feel rather evenly matched, if not simply overpowered. It was exhilarating. Usually, I tend to dominate conversations and eventually get people to quit talking, as they were not able to form a proper rebuttal. Yukinoshita was different. I did, in fact, adore her company.

"So." I scanned around, looking for a possible clock hanging on the wall. "How much time do we have left?"

"You've been here for ten minutes, asked for writing advice, and now you're just going to leave? If that is the case, then I must say your straightforwardness is pissing me off."

"Alright. I'll stay. Though I do prefer more information regarding what this whole club thing is about. You have given me the impression that it's nothing more than group reading time plus occasional critique."

It seemed to me that posing a stern attitude had some effect on Yukino, as she shut the book once and for all and placed it into a backpack leaning against the leg of the chair. Her face relaxed and dulled and the body language became less intimidating.

"The club, to be fair, was not my idea alone. Hiratsuka made it, and one day after school I was informed that I was now the president of the club. I didn't decline, in fact, I liked the idea. Not for being helpful, of course, as only idiots would actually make an organisation whose only task is to give to the less fortunate. I don't care about the petty tasks, like, helpling a total stranger to write a love letter to some random girl that doesn't even know his name. This is silly and doesn't take a genius to understand why. I'm here because I like my alone time and the atmosphere, they make me feel peaceful.

"You may want to ask, 'why does she create a club just to enjoy some alone time?' Well there's also a second level to this. From the fact that you've already heard of my name before even meeting me, it's a rather inconvenient fact that I very well know. Appearance, grades, background, personality, everything about me stands out from the rest. Don't view it as some anti-establishment sort of thing, though, as I am fully self-conscious about what I have and do appreciate what my parents gave me.

"On the other hand, everything comes at a cost and in my case, it is the demands that I have to answer every waking moment of my life. I have to live up to the expectations of not only my family, but also anyone around and to tell you the truth, it starts to get on my nerves after a while. They should praise me for my achievements and not demand more of it. This is why the service club is here. I help people. They need my assistance. I feel superior because they need me. I am all-powerful and in complete control.

"But I ask you: do you not want the same? By writing this obviously off-topic essay and going through all the burden of dealing with Hiratsuka, do you not crave the same attention? By pulling a stunt like this you have effectively announced that you do, in fact, like to be wanted and needed. We are social animals with a hint of solitude in us. You've been giving yourself the blue pills all along. I know for a fact that you won't quit the club, because you too will enjoy the company here and not even your family dares to say what I say. This is what the service club stands for. By providing you with the service you need, I'm also doing myself a favour."

For the next thirty seconds we stared at each other in silence, as Yukinoshita's modest chest rose and fell in an attempt to recover from the long speech.

"Hikigaya-kun, how many years has it been since you've last talked to a woman, with the exception of necessary interactions?"

I was fairly confident with my memory, especially the kind of trivial interactions that most people tend to forget in hours - to the point where the girls in my class treated me like a stalker.

It must've happened quite some time ago, perhaps a few years, I assured myself.

Girl: It's pretty hot today huh?

I: More like humid and warm, don't you think?

Girl: What? Oh..Ugh… Yeah, I guess

The end.

It went more or less that way. Except for the fact that the person that I replied to was actually not talking to me but another girl sitting directly behind my back. Survival instincts make us more susceptible to remembering bad memories and every now and then I would recall the awkwardness in the middle of the night and mutter curses in silence.

"Several years, maybe, I'm not sure."

Just as I squeezed out a haphazard response. At some point, Yukinoshita stood up again. Naturally, she was looking down at me.

"Those that possess much are oftentimes pressured into giving to those who do not. Some call this volunteering. Developed countries providing astronomical financial and development assistance to developing countries, popular students give the socially awkward boy the opportunity to talk to a girl. This is what you would think this club does.

"But remember, those that possess much would found charities as a natural tax haven. Volunteers leave as soon as their organisers write them the reference portion of the resume. Developed countries build extravagant infrastructures to snare third world countries into debt traps and expect them to pay back with the complete surrender of their right to natural resources. Popular students shove the unpopular boy in front of the faces of the girl and her friends, only for him to be ridiculed and brutalised. This club focuses on realistic strategies and practical solutions that will exclusively be in the guests and members' best interest.

"Welcome to the service club. I invite you."

If she actually meant to welcome me, then it must have been a very cold welcome, amplified by the way she said straight to my face.

"According to Hiratsukka, it is the duty of those who are superior to save those who lead a pitiable existence. But as far as my understanding goes, you cannot, and do not need to be saved. In some ways I am clearly superior but in some others, I am just as much awkward. This is not a world where the hero goes walking around saving helpless people like the erotic light novels you read. I will make sure that I accomplish the task she requested and fulfill the responsibility to its maximum. At the same time you must realise that I am only doing this because she had requested me to do so, and it will be your responsibility to make yourself useful."

"So where exactly do we start?"

"Your face, Hikigaya-kun. Have you not taken the liberty of looking at yourself in a mirror? If you haven't noticed, then I will kindly inform you that the way you stare at me is vulgar. You're a weirdo. And I'm already creeped out."

"I don't need the opinion from a weird girl like you who also happens to have no friends and with the nice addition of a personal cult of haters."

She really was awkward. At least now I have confirmed what the rumours suggested. The rumours that I just happened to eavesdrop since I didn't recall ever talking to someone. The rumours that said Yukinoshita was a much darker entity than what her appearance seemed to suggest. The cold, sadistic smile she wore on her face conveyed precisely that.

"Hmm… Based on my observations, it seems that your current situation is a direct consequence of your corrupt facial expression and misogynistic temperament," Yukinoshita concluded. "You're so pitiable, I just can't leave you alone, you know? If Hiratsuka hadn't told you to come here for another term, the only way I would possibly get to know you is when you brandish a loaded rifle in a crowded classroom."

"At least I scored third in the Japanese proficiency part of the entrance exam."

"To be so full of yourself just because you scored great on one part of an entrance exam is pathetic. Considering the fact that your name wasn't even on the top-50 leaderboard, it's very safe to assume that your performance in the other sections did a great job balancing it out. Using one exam in a particular subject as indicative of one's intellect is also pathetic."

Given that Yukinoshita probably hadn't actually conversed with any person for a considerable period of time, her extremely high verbosity and the constant passive-aggressive flow of toxicity out of her mouth was completely within reason, at least from my reckoning. It was somewhat entertaining as well, as being scolded by a beautiful female in an intelligently articulate manner had made the experience uniquely enjoyable and satisfying.

"Some say that all that matters is personality." Yukinoshita continued, as she stood in front of me and examined, "Though I must disagree, because if that's the case, you would not have suffered a solitary lifestyle to such a degree."

"Are you suggesting that I have a disfigured face? The last time I saw my face it certainly seemed normal to me."

"That's not what I mean. I'm just telling you that sometimes the truth hurts more than the words."

Yukinoshita took on a serious expression as she rested her hands on my shoulders.

"Come back to reality. Beauty is not a subjective standard rated by oneself. In other words, since we are alone in this room, them my opinion would become the absolute standard." She muttered. "For starters, eyes such as the two on your face certainly resemble those of a rotten fish, and they would certainly leave a negative impression to anyone with the remote possibility of striking a conversation with you. I'm not criticising your facial features but rather your facial expression, which is disgusting, especially right now."

Even though there was a good thirty centimetre of distance between us, I still felt her soft breath tickling the tip of my nose. Then I took a deep breath.

"Never knew you were so good at making cookies."

She immediately jolted back, hand covering her mouth, and glared angry daggers at me. The look in her eyes was comparable to that of a bloodthirsty predator, but her shy face was certainly cute beyond reason.

"...You creep"

Whatever insults she was planning before that, it certainly did kill the mood. Just as I was busy celebrating a hard-fought victory, Yukinoshita flipped her hair over the shoulder and announced, as if triumphant, "The point is, basing one's entire identity in superficial aspects such as grades or appearance is certainly unappealing, not to mention these obnoxious eyes of yours."

"I can't change the way I look at people, you know."

Yukinoshita massaged her temple as if she had a migraine. "Yes, I certainly do feel bad for your parents for giving birth to a child stuck on the lower-functioning end of the autistic spectrum."

"Anyways, I guess this completes the social interaction rehabilitation. You performed miserably. There is no chance of you being able to converse normally with the majority of the population and I will certainly notify Hiratsuka of my findings." She squeezed out a wryly pleasant smile, "Now that you have this spectacular memory of having a conversation with a girl that will keep you going even when you're alone."

"You mean the intimate tactile and olfactory stimulation that I received from a girl that will keep me going even when I'm alone in bed?"

I chuckled at my terrible sense of humour as Yukinoshita glared at me as if to question my reason to exist. Then a piercing silence descended upon this long-abandoned classroom - I thought I had a tinnitus attack.

It continued for a while until being suddenly broken by the sound of the sliding door being violently pulled open with a resonating rattle.

"Just how many times do I have to tell you to knock…" Yukinoshita complained.

* * *

Now resuming upload. Sorry about the long pause.


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